


Tell me about it

by angeryeva



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types, Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Apprentice - Freeform, Assassin Dick Grayson, Assassination, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Con Artists, Deathstroke - Freeform, Dick Grayson is Renegade, Dick Grayson-centric, F/M, Female Dick Grayson, Genderbending, Manipulation, Mercenary Dick Grayson, No Slash, One Shot, Rachel Grayson - Freeform, Romani Dick Grayson, angsty batkids pog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27727492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeryeva/pseuds/angeryeva
Summary: “Bruce.”Her heart sank. What was he doing here? Wasn’t he busy patrolling? Did he know she was here? Was he going to recognize her?“Rachel. Breathe.” Slade’s stern voice made her stop. “He doesn’t know you’re here. He won’t recognize you.”“How do you know?” she whispered.“You’d be surprised what bangs and some makeup can do.”-Rachel Grayson has been captured by the deadly mercenary Deathstroke to become his apprentice. How will she survive his training and manipulation, and will she ever be reunited with her mentor Bruce Wayne?
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson
Comments: 53
Kudos: 184





	1. Tell me about it

“This nose itches.” Rachel complained into the hidden comms built into her earrings. 

“ _Quit complaining._ ” Slade replied concisely. Rachel huffed and resisted the urge to touch the prosthetic make-up that made her nose look like it was stolen out of a vogue magazine. She stepped out of the car and made her way to the entrance of the museum, ignoring the crowds of people and avoiding the flashing cameras of the press. Even though she was looking unrecognizable, pictures were a risk they were not willing to take.

“Name?” an attendant asked when she reached the doors.

“Theodora Carmichael.” The attendant’s eyes flicked across a clipboard, and nodded.

“You’re on the list. Enjoy your evening, miss Carmichael.” Rachel was welcomed in with a smile and a gesture. 

The museum wasn’t anything Rachel hadn’t seen countless times before, but she couldn’t help but revel in the nostalgia that waved over her. She hadn’t been to an event like this in a long time. All of New Jersey’s elite had gathered here to brag about their wealth, and improve their image by donating to the museum. 

Rachel navigated through the crowds of people. She was here on a mission after all. A certain Leopold Bradford had the password to some very valuable information, and Slade was contracted to acquire it. 

“Miss Hawthorne!” Rachel said to an old woman she recognized from the files Slade had her study, “So nice to see you again, it’s been ages!”

Hawthorne’s confused look was quickly hidden by a fake smile. “Of course, my dear! How have you been?” The thing about these posh people is that they don’t care about anything other than their image. Why cause a scene when you don’t recognize someone when you can pretend you’ve known them your whole life?

“You know, same old, same old.” Rachel and Hawthorne laughed obnoxiously. “Actually, I was wondering if you’ve seen Leopold anywhere tonight? My father has some business he wanted to discuss.” 

“Your father?” 

“Yes, always the same song. ‘Theodora, do this!’, ‘Theodora, do that!’. I practically run Carmichael Industries already!” 

“Oh dear, of course. Classic Carmichael business as I always say!” They laughed again, and Rachel hoped Hawthorne hadn’t seen the twitch in her left eye. “But yes, last time I saw Leopold he was flirting with some young girl at the buffet table.”

“Thank you so much, miss Hawthorne. Give my love to Hugo!” With a last smile Rachel left, her fake smile hurting her cheeks already.

“I’m out of practice…” she muttered to herself, and was pretty sure she heard Slade huff.

She wasn’t far from the buffet table, and a quick scan of the crowd revealed Leopold Bradford still talking to a young woman. Rachel took a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray and started to walk towards the pair when she suddenly noticed someone. 

“Bruce.”

Her heart sank. What was he doing here? Wasn’t he busy patrolling? Did he know she was here? Was he going to recognize her?

“ _Rachel. Breathe._ ” Slade’s stern voice made her stop. “ _He doesn’t know you’re here. He won’t recognize you._ ” 

“How do you know?” she whispered. 

“ _You’d be surprised what bangs and some makeup can do._ ”

“But-”

“ _Rachel, it’s all about the attitude, alright? Keep your chin up, your voice low and move like a rich girl._ ” Slade’s instructions made breathing a bit easier. “ _As long as you avoid him, there will be no chance that he knows you’re there. Why would he? Rachel Grayson is dead._ ”

Right. Just keep out of sight. After one last look at her old mentor, she steeled herself and walked over to her target.

“Excuse me, you’re Dr. Bradford, right?” she interrupted.

“Yes, and who may this gorgeous young lady be?” the old man replied, not-so-subtly looking at her cleavage. She knew he was most often seen with younger girls, so she put on a revealing red dress. Evidently a good choice.

“Theodora Carmichael. I’ve read your paper on infectious diseases in third world countries, it was very captivating.” The other girl gave her a foul look, but Bradford didn’t notice.

“Ah, a very good choice. I’m glad you enjoyed it!” he smiled, “What parts did you find interesting?” 

“The points you made about changes in the demographic structure really changed my view about the whole subject.” Rachel snuck a glance at the girl, who was discreetly rolling her eyes. Bitch. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions about it?” She moved a bit closer to the man, almost pressing herself to his side. “In private?”

“Dr. Bradford!” A deep voice stunned her. Bruce Wayne was standing next to her, his large figure occupying too much space. She kept her face neutral, but her mind was going crazy again. He was here. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t-

“Introduce me to your lovely company!” This wasn’t Bruce, this was Brucie. His alter-ego he put up whenever he was in public. It wasn’t anything new, but he had never directed it at _her_.

“Bruce, this is Melanie,” Bradford nodded at the other girl, “and this is Theodora. We were just talking about my paper.”

“ _Flirt with him_.” Oh my fucking- Gross. “ _Bruce won’t suspect you, and Bradford will get jealous. Just trust me_.” Ugh, fine. Whatever.

“We were, though I wouldn’t mind talking about those muscles instead, handsome.” _Eeeeeeeewwwwwwww._ This is fucking disgusting. 

Rachel winked and had to repress some kind of impulsive gag reflex. But she saw from the corner of her eye that Bradford was trying his best (and failing) to hide a sneer. So it worked.

“Haha, maybe later.” Bruce laughed her off. In his mind she was just another random girl who wanted to seduce him for his money. “I was hoping Dr. Bradford and I could have a talk somewhere. Business.” Bruce probably wanted to talk to him for that very same information Rachel had to acquire. But Bradford’s eyes were still squinted at Bruce. 

“Theodora here and I were actually going to have a conversation.” He looked back at Rachel. “She had some questions about my paper.” 

“Of course, go ahead.” Bruce smiled, but Rachel knew him long enough to see behind that mask. He was pissed. “I’ll take care of Melanie.” Melanie looked at him like she’d found a new target. _In your dreams._

Rachel took Bradford’s arm and they left to find a private room. Bradford obviously had experience, because he found a deserted bathroom in no time. She had only just closed the door when Bradford pushed her against a sink. 

“About that paper…” she said slowly, her eyes on his tie. His breath smelled like alcohol .

“Fuck that paper.” he smirked, his rimpled face twisting in what he probably thought was a seductive way. “Like you could understand it anyway.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean.” She undid his tie.

“A girl like you couldn’t possibly-” 

She grabbed his arm and turned them around, so she was pushing him into the sink. 

“I can assure you-” She twisted the tie around his neck in a swift motion. His eyes widened in shock. “-that I’m smart enough.”

“Wha- what are you doing?!” His voice raised a few octaves. She pressed even closer to him when he started flapping his arms around. “Is this some- some kind of kink!?”

She pulled the tie tighter around his neck.

“I need you to tell me the password to Project Greenhouse.” 

“What’s that?” he lied.

“Tell me the password.”

“I don’t even know what that is!” 

She pulled harder. “Tell me.”

“I can’t- I can’t breathe!” He grabbed at her hands, trying to free himself, but she was stronger. “Please! I don’t know!”

Rachel released the tie with one hand and took off one of her stiletto heels. 

“Please! I don’t know _anything_!” 

She plunged the heel into his shoulder. He screamed loudly, but she wasn’t worried. They had picked a secluded bathroom, after all. When he just kept crying she took the heel and started twisting it around in his shoulder.

“ _Fine_! I’ll tell you!” he screamed finally, “Just don’t hurt me! Please! I’ll tell you!”

She released the tie and pushed him to the ground. His face was full of snot and tears. 

“The password.” 

“I- It’s MassCharter789XQ!” 

Satisfied with his answer, she pulled her heel out of his shoulder and rinsed it quickly under the tap to get rid of the blood. 

“You’re a crazy bitch, y’know that?!” Bradford whimpered from the floor, “Fucking psycho.”

She crouched down and fished a knife out of her dress. “Tell me about it.” she said, and slit his throat.

Leaving was easy. Bruce and Melanie had disappeared off to who knows where, so she didn’t have to worry about them seeing her leave. After she got in the car she quickly took off both her heels. She definitely hadn’t missed those. As she took off the fake nose and bangs, she couldn’t help but feel strange.

“ _You did well, Rachel_.” Slade said in her ear. “ _You should be proud. Especially with how you handled Wayne._ ”

After all these years she’d learned to enjoy completing missions, and hearing Slade’s praise afterwards always filled her with pride in a strange, psychopathic kind of way. But somehow she didn’t tonight.

She only felt guilty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked it! I might continue this with more chapters, but I'm not sure. 
> 
> If you want me to continue this, leave some kudos and let me know in the comments!
> 
> EDIT: I want to make clear that this story won’t exactly be in chronological order, so if you’re confused about the timeline, don’t hesitate to ask your questions in the comments!


	2. No Offense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think that’s a tad too high,” Wintergreen commented over her shoulder. She grumbled and adjusted the stove. “There you go.” 
> 
> Before he could turn back to his own tasks Rachel couldn’t help but ask. 
> 
> “Why don’t you call Slade master?”

Wintergreen was an interesting man. 

You could say he was similar to Alfred. Both former military, both British old men, both butler to dangerous masks. But where Alfred was like a father figure to Bruce, Rachel just couldn’t understand what Wintergreen was to Slade. 

“Can you start on the sauce?” he asked her one day. 

“Sure.” 

They were both standing in the kitchen, which was frankly much too big for two people, let alone Wintergreen himself. Slade and his inconsistent spending habits…

Rachel didn’t take long to begin cutting up some tomatoes. After a month of helping the butler with dinner she’d become quite proficient in preparing meals. Of course not as much as Alfred, but she wasn’t sure anyone in the world could cook as well as him. Not even Wintergreen (though his cooking certainly wasn’t bad either). 

“Can you pass me the salt?” Rachel said after a few minutes. She didn’t look as she took the handed shaker, too busy with trying to control the temperature on the stove. 

“I think that’s a tad too high,” Wintergreen commented over her shoulder. She grumbled and adjusted the stove. “There you go.” 

Before he could turn back to his own tasks Rachel couldn’t help but ask. 

“Why don’t you call Slade master?” She hesitantly looked at him to catch his reaction. Maybe it was a bit out of line, but Rachel was a curious person. 

“I’m not his apprentice…” he said with a confused frown. 

“No, no I mean-“ She averted her eyes, “We had a butler too. Alfred’s his name.” 

Wintergreen put down his ladle and gestures to continue. 

“No matter how many times I asked, even insisted, he would always call me Miss. It was always Master Bruce and Miss Rachel.” She smiled wistfully, “No amount of bribing could get him to change his mind. Eventually I just had to accept it like Bruce had. And like Jason Todd probably has too…” 

Those last words made her smile fade. It was too soon. Too fresh. 

“Were you close to your butler?” Wintergreen provided when she stopped. 

“Yes! Alfred’s amazing.” Rachel hoisted herself onto the countertop, sauce long forgotten. “Nobody can rival his cooking. No offense,”

Wintergreen nodded. 

“but it’s true. He has the most amazing humor. There’s probably not a person in the whole world who can beat him in a passive-aggressiveness-competition.”

Wintergreen procured a chair and sat down, not bothering with the pasta anymore either. It seemed he was content with listening to her. 

“But the most important thing is that he was always there for me.” Her tone turned serious, “I could run away, or insult him and he would still accept me with open arms.

“That’s what happened with Bruce too, y’know? He started fighting crooks on the streets and Alfred just accepted it. Not only that, he supported it. Now there is simply no Batman without Alfred Pennyworth.”

But there is a Batman without Rachel Grayson. 

And Rachel couldn’t help but feel dejected after her little speech. All it did was make her more homesick than ever. Would Alfred even accept her coming home? She knew Bruce wouldn’t, having already replaced her with some random guy off the street, but ultimately it was Alfred who called the shots. Maybe he could convince Bruce-

“Men like that are rare, Rachel.” Wintergreen interrupted her thoughts, “You’re lucky he cares about you so much. Not many people have that.”

Rachel remained silent at that. The old man turned back to the pasta. 

“When I was still in the army, Slade saved my life.” he continued, “Because of that, I owe him a life debt. One I was willing to pay as his butler. But we were still old friends. Equals.”

Rachel’s eyes were trained on Wintergreen’s hands. It was like magic, how he created complicated meals from scratch. 

“That’s why I don’t call him master.”

The pasta ended up being delicious, though Rachel may have messed up the sauce enough that Wintergreen quickly microwaved a premade packet before Slade came home. Though the man probably didn’t even notice the difference, too focused on his laptop. 

That night, after Slade had kicked her ass to the moon and back during training, her mind wandered back to the conversation she had with Wintergreen. 

Wintergreen had become Slade’s butler out of obligation, and continued to serve and support him even after he started illegal and dangerous activities. 

Maybe he and Alfred weren’t so different after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter despite it being a bit short  
> I have so many plans for where to take this fic, so let me know what you think about it and if I should continue :)
> 
> Kudos are very much appreciated!!


	3. Really pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> wig snatched

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to repeat that the chapters aren' t in chronological order, so if you're confused, good.  
> Any question you have, leave them in the comments! I'll be happy to answer them :)

It’s been a year.

A whole _fucking_ year.

But Rachel couldn’t lose hope in Bruce. Not when Slade was trying _so hard_ to make her.

“Get up.” Slade’s voice cut through the heavy air in the gym. 

“No.” Rachel spat. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. She couldn’t. Slade had ‘trained’ her so much, knocking her off her feet, hitting her, kicking in between her ribs, again and again and again. She was struggling to breathe as she lied on the training mats.

“I don’t want to repeat myself, apprentice.” 

“Fuck off.” 

That was it. Slade’s eyes grew dark as he finally decided he’d had enough. Without warning he reached down and grabbed Rachel by her hair. She cried out in pain, but Slade ignored her.   
Rachel could do nothing as she was dragged behind Slade, eyes watering in pain.

“I have been so patient.” 

Rachel could feel the hairs ripping out of her scalp, and cried out again.

“I have put up with your complaining, and your whining and the rest of your bullshit for a whole year, and what have you learned?” 

“Please!” Tears were streaming down her face.

“Nothing!” Slade opened the door to Rachel’s bedroom and threw her in, where she collapsed onto the ground. “You have learned absolutely _nothing_.”

As she sobbed on the cold floor, Slade turned around and said one last thing before slamming the door shut.

“Maybe I should have killed you for real, after all.”

It’s been a year.  
Maybe Bruce really wasn’t going to save her. 

Rachel picked herself up and opened the door to her tiny bathroom. She usually avoided looking in the mirror, but not today. She needed to confront herself with the truth.  
What she saw wasn’t exactly a surprise. Red, puffy eyes, a bruise on her jaw from a few days ago and her long. black hair, which was now a mess because of Slade. 

_“I love your hair!” a voice said. Rachel turned around and saw a girl with bright red hair, and piercing green eyes. Rachel felt her cheeks burn._

_“...Thanks!” she managed to say, “Your hair is really pretty too.”_

_“Do you know how to braid? I can teach you! Oh! We could have a sleepover! That would be so cool.” the girl rattled on, “I’m Barbara by the way, but you can call me Babs.”_

She used to love her hair. She and Babs would spend hours braiding each other's hair and trying new techniques they found on the internet. But now she couldn’t stand to look at it. It only reminded her of the way Slade had _manhandled_ her. 

Before the tears could start again, she opened the medicine cabinet and took out a kitchen knife she’d once managed to smuggle out. Without hesitation, she held the knife up to her hair and sliced a big chunk of it off. 

She cut more. Again and again. She would let nobody violate her like that again. She angrily chopped and cut and sliced. 

She looked in the mirror and dropped the knife. Her hair was gone. All that was left was a fucked up pixie cut, and a bloody cut on her hand. 

Slade found her a few minutes after, sitting on the bathroom floor surrounded by hair and blood. Without saying anything, he helped her up and cleaned the wound on her hand under the sink. He bandaged it carefully before guiding her to her bedroom. They sat down together on the bed and Rachel leaned into Slade’s side. He petted her freshly-cut hair, twisting it between his fingers.

When Rachel started to yawn, Slade laid her head down onto the pillow, and stood. Again, he said one last thing before closing the door softly and leaving.

“We’ll get you a new haircut tomorrow.”


	4. Pleasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tim: im robin now  
> rachel: 0.o

_“Renegade, get in position.”_

“Yes, sir.” 

Rachel leaped off the roof they were standing on and landed silently on the target building. She stayed low to avoid being spotted while sprinting towards the roof access door. Once there, she crouched down and tapped her comm.

“In position.”

_“Good. Disabling the security system in 5, 4, 3…”_

Rachel waited until Deathstroke counted to zero and quickly slipped through the door. She only had a couple of seconds before the cameras turned back on, so instead of walking down the stairs she jumped down the gap. Catching the rails two stories down, she swung herself onto the stairs again. Now out of range of the cameras.

“Ready to breach.” 

_“Alright. You know what to do.”_

Rachel nodded, even though Deathstroke couldn’t see her. After taking a deep breath, she opened a door and rushed through. The cameras on this floor of the lab were out of order after a ‘convenient’ explosion (she had been proud of her plan to switch a few incoming orders of chemicals, which resulted in an experiment going wrong), so she didn’t have to worry about being seen. 

She sprinted quietly across the laboratories. Once she spotted Lab 731 she stopped, and entered the abandoned room. It reminded her of the late night conferences at school, when she and Bruce would enter the school and it’d feel like a different universe.

The lab looked normal, apart from one gaping hole in the floor, where the explosion had gone off. Rachel stepped to the edge, steel-tipped boots a contrast against the dark scorch marks. She jumped down, and immediately began counting in her head. This room _did_ have cameras, and she would only have a few minutes before police arrived. Or worse.

Rachel ignored the desks full of high-tech inventions, and went straight to a dimly illuminated glass case. Inside was a highly unstable energy source, created from Kryptonite and Uranium. She promptly removed the case, not caring about the silent alarm going off, and opened a lead-lined pocket in her belt to store the source in.

Before she touched it, she could hear them. Footsteps.   
They were quiet. A small person, well trained. She smiled underneath her mask.

“Hey, Robin.” she spoke while taking the energy source, and storing it in her pocket. After turning around, she could see a small boy emerging from the shadows. 

The costume had changed.

“You’re the guy that Red Hood always hangs out with.” His voice was surprisingly deep. What was he, fourteen? Fifteen?

“That’s me. Pleasure.” Rachel crossed her arms, “First time meeting a Robin, actually. How’s the big man?” 

Robin scoffed. He took out a long bo staff, not unlike the one Rachel used to have, and pointed it at her. “I’m going to need you to put that back.”

“How cute. I’m leaving.” She turned to the windows, only to have Robin swing at her chest. Having expected this, however, Rachel caught the staff, and looked a surprised Robin in the eyes. “Speaking of, where is Batman?”

Robin narrowed his eyes and sprang back to take attack position. Rachel took out her own katana, which was strapped to her back. 

“You come here all alone? With his permission?” They started to circle each other.

“Yeah.” Robin spat out. Rachel huffed.

“I doubt that.” She attacked. A quick strike made Robin dodge, who in turn used his momentum to swing at her legs. Rachel flipped over it, and kicked Robin in the face before landing. He staggered back and held his jaw. “You probably snuck out, didn’t you? You wanted to prove yourself to him or something?” 

Robin glared at her. She hit home. He jumped at her, jabbing forwards. Rachel stepped to the side, and used the hilt of her katana to strike him on his back. But Robin didn’t back down, and instead swung back around, and threw three batarangs at her. 

Rachel dodged two and deflected one with her katana, and crept forward. “Why even bother? It’s not like he isn’t going to replace you the _second_ you kick the bucket.” Rage swung her katana down, and Robin blocked it with his staff. She swung again, and again. He blocked it all.

“Face it. You’re expendable. You don’t need Batman.” 

She swung down again, hard. Robin held his staff with two hands to block it, straining under the force.

“But Batman needs _me_!” 

Rachel stumbled and Robin ducked away. Her katana meeting nothing but air. 

“What?” she questioned. Robin stood breathing heavily on the other side of the room. Shoulders raised proudly.

“Batman needs a Robin.” he said, “That’s the way it is, and that’s the way it always has been. That’s why I do this.”

“But…”

“I _know_ that after me, there will be another. There will always be another.”

Rachel watched as Robin spoke the same words she once did. This kid, only a child, knew that without Robin, Batman is just a monster. And he chose to take that responsibility. Just like she had. 

Why was she feeling vaguely… proud?

“ _That’s enough Renegade._ ” Deathstroke’s voice sounded in her ear. Rachel nodded.

“I like you, kid.” she said. Robin frowned. “Good luck with the old man.”

With that, she lept backwards into a window, which shattered on impact, already cracked by the explosion. With the grappling hook she had snatched off of Robin’s belt earlier, she swung through the city. 

The cold wind blew against her face, and she smiled. It felt good to be flying again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed! I've had a lot more motivation to write recently so I´m taking advantage of it while it's still there :)  
> If you have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them in the comments, and be sure to leave some kudos!


	5. Don't get me wrong!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Mission Conversation Pog?

Rachel wasn’t a very patient person.   
There were countless occasions where she messed up a stake-out with Bruce because she just couldn’t sit still any longer. Her need for adrenaline may have been a bit too strong. It all worked out in the end, of course. Batman was there after all. 

Still, she didn’t like waiting. The longer she had to, the more nervous she got. Her thoughts would start spiraling, going to some dark places. And the fact that Bruce wasn’t a very talkative person, let alone Batman, didn’t help very much with distracting her.

She’d thought Slade wouldn’t want to talk either. She was wrong.

“You seriously have never had ice cream?!” she asked.

“No, never had the time.” Slade looked almost amused, a slight smile pulling at his mouth.

“Man, you must’ve had a really sad childhood…”

Slade shrugged. “It was alright, though you probably would say otherwise.”

“What does that mean?” Rachel asked. She watched as Slade’s expression turned serious again.

“Let’s just say that I joined the military when I was your age.”

Rachel’s mouth opened in shock. He was seventeen?! Dang. “Yeah, I get now why you’ve never had ice cream…” 

Slade huffed in amusement, but didn’t say anything else. They sat in silence for a while, but this time Rachel was content to do so. Slade had given her a lot to think about. What _had_ his childhood been like? Why did he join the military so young? And how did he end up like this?

She sighed and looked around the dense forest surrounding them. If she’d known they would spend hours in a humid jungle, she’d probably have packed some more water or something. 

“What about you?” Slade spoke.

“Huh?” 

“What was your childhood like?” 

Rachel scoffed. “You know what my childhood was like.”

Slade tilted his head a bit to the side. “Do I?” he said, “I only know what happened to you. The death of your parents, your adoption by Bruce Wayne, you becoming Robin. I don’t know how you felt about it. If you were happy or not.”

She had not expected that. Slade had never been interested in her like that. She hesitated before answering. How _did_ she feel about her childhood? 

“I… I don’t know…” she mused, “It was fine, I guess. Aside from the trauma of losing my parents, and the stress of being a superhero, I don’t really have anything to complain about.”

“What about Bruce Wayne?” 

“Bruce? He’s good.” she smiled softly, “He’s given me so much. A home, a life, a passion. Though I suppose he can be a bit distant. He’s not the most emotionally mature person, y’know? If I ever had a problem, I had to go to Alfred. Bruce didn’t know how to help me.”

“I see…” Slade nodded, listening attentively. “But you two were the Dynamic Duo. I presumed that you two had a good bond.”

“Oh no, we have!” Rachel quickly corrected, “We’re a good team. We kind of intuitively know what the other’s next move is gonna be. That’s why we’re called that.”

She frowned.

“It’s just…” she hesitated, not sure how to say it.

Slade hummed curiously.

“B and I are a great duo as crime fighters. Like I said, we’re very in sync. But… Bruce always has this disapproving air to him. Like- Like nothing I do is _actually_ good enough for him.” she said, “Don’t get me wrong! I think he’s a great mentor. He’s such a skilled fighter and intelligent detective. And I’m- I was just a kid with some acrobatic skills. So I knew I could never be on his level.

“But I still wanted to prove myself! I was capable of doing something, y’know. Even just the tiniest bit…” Rachel trailed off, “I just wanted to help.”

She flinched when a heavy drop of water landed on her shoulder. Right. Jungle. Mission. Focus. 

“Anyway, Slade, I had a question.” 

Slade nodded once.

“Erm… How do I say this?” she said, “Why can we talk? I mean- Whenever B and I were on a stakeout, I was never allowed to talk. But I am now.”

Slade shrugged nonchalantly, “As long as it doesn’t jeopardize the mission, I’m fine with it.” he said, “Besides, I know that if you don’t have any stimulation, you’ll go crazy after a while…”

While he said it casually, Rachel couldn’t help but shudder slightly. She was aware of that too, especially after that one time… 

Rachel shook her head. Not the time to think about that now. Slade suddenly sat up, looking over the clearing in the forest that was supposed to be their target’s meeting place. Rachel looked over as well, and saw three jeeps rolling in, coming to a stop at the edge of the clearing.

She made eye contact with Slade, who signaled at her. She nodded once, and put up her mask, covering her face up to her eyebrows. 

Showtime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Maybe this will give some more insight to Rachel's inner thought process, and the way Slade very subtly manipulates her.
> 
> Anyway, next chapter will be a wild one I hope, so stay tuned!


	6. My name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> spiceyyyyy

Don’t talk.

Don’t talk. Don’t talk. Don’t talk. Don’t talk. Don’t talk.  
Don’t. Say. Shit.

Renegade’s mind was racing, screaming at her to stay focused. Don’t say a word. If you do, you’ll lose everything. They’ll kill you.

Despite Deathstroke’s thorough training, Renegade couldn’t relax her muscles. Instead of the nonchalant aura she was supposed to emit, she could almost taste the tension in the small interrogation room. Her shoulders were drawn up, back straight, eyes fixed on a spot on the wall. She couldn’t feel her fingers.

A door opened.

Of course they sent Clark in. A friendly and familiar face to put her at ease, right?   
The man sat down in the chair across the table from her, and crossed his arms.

“...Rachel.” he said with a frown, but didn’t continue.

Don’t talk. Don’t talk. Don’t talk.

They sat in silence until it became clear Rachel wasn’t planning on saying anything. Then Clark’s stern demeanor broke into a concerned expression. The pity in his bright blue eyes was almost too much for her.

“What happened, Rachel?” Don’t talk. Don’t talk. Don’t talk. “What’s going on?”

Rachel couldn’t say anything, not a word. Otherwise she would break and spill out everything. And then they would know. They would know about the horrible things she had done, and the people she had killed. She would never be able to face them ever again.

“ _Dammit_ Rachel!” She flinched when Clark slammed a fist on the metal table. “We thought you died!? We thought you were dead! Bruce saw you!”

Rachel set her jaw.

“And yet here you are.” Clark slumped back in his chair. “Dressed in all black hanging out with a deadly mercenary. J’onn checked, there was no mind control involved. So _what_ is going on? Why aren’t you talking?”

She could swear she saw Clark’s eyes glint with tears, but he blinked before she could confirm. It was almost heartbreaking to see him like this. Last she saw him, she was fifteen. She was certain that nothing and nobody could defeat him. Ever.

“Please, Rachel. Say something.” It was almost a whisper.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t say anything. Slade would know, he always knows. She couldn’t do that to Clark. Or Bruce, or Jason or anyone. So don’t talk. Don’t talk. Don’t talk.

“Rach-“

“That’s enough.” The door slammed open and a dark figure barged into the room. Clark moved out of the way in surprise, and Batman slammed his hands down on the table. His deep voice echoed through the tiny room. “Tell me what happened. Now.”

Rachel flinched back into the chair, and looked away from Bruce’s face. Don’t talk.

Clark tried to talk but Bruce silenced him with a glare.

“Rachel.” he pressured, “Speak.”

She couldn’t help the tears from filling her eyes. Don’t talk. Don’t talk. Don’t talk.

“ _Rachel!_ ” His scream rang in her ears.

“ _Fuck you!_ ” she screamed back, now looking directly in Bruce’s eyes. He was still wearing his Batman cowl, but Rachel knew him well enough to be able to look past that. His face was screaming anger. But so was hers. “Fuck you Bruce! Go to fucking hell!”

The Dark Knight was taken aback. “...Rach-“

“No! You don’t get to fucking talk to me!” The tears finally escaped, and were streaming down her face as she yelled. “You _left_ me. You left me and never came back for me. And once you finally got rid of me you _replaced_ me! You even gave that fucking asshole my name, _my name_. That wasn’t yours to give! Robin is my. Fucking. Name.” 

Rachel sniffed and fell back in her chair.

“Go ahead and lock me up, I don’t care. But don’t you dare pretend you care about me.”

With one last furious glare, Bruce dramatically turned around and left, slamming the door shut behind him. Clark’s worried look had turned into a wary one, looking almost afraid of Rachel. Of the person she’d become. 

He looked like he wanted to say something, but ultimately decided to exit as well, leaving behind a dejected atmosphere.

Rachel sniffed. It didn’t matter. Slade was gonna rescue her anyway. 

Fucking assholes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hope you enjoyed this one lol  
> I'm not great at writing longer chapters, but I'll try next time!!!  
> We stan angsty bat kids lmao


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